


pragma

by ShadowR0nin



Category: Dream SMP-Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: And Schlatt, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood and Injury, Do I look like I know what I'm doing?, Fluff and Angst, GET FUCKED THESUES, Hearing Voices, M/M, Male Friendship, Mentions of Blood, Mild Hurt/Comfort, More angst, Mutual Pining, NOT ABOUT REAL PEOPLE, No beta we die like Edward, Not Carl Tho, Other, Panic Attacks, Philcentric, Pining, Platonic Soulmates, Technoblade Hears Voices (Video Blogging RPF), Thank DreamXD, This time we do have a beta but we still gonna die like tommy, Unreliable Narrator, and wilbur, ch2, dont do that shit, not graphic, technocentric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-23
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-13 05:13:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29646288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadowR0nin/pseuds/ShadowR0nin
Summary: Pragma — Enduring LovePragma is a unique bonded love that matures over many years. It's an everlasting love between a couple that chooses to put equal effort into their relationship.
Relationships: Dave | Technoblade & Phil Watson, Technoblade/Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 20
Kudos: 236





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [leave me your starlight](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28211121) by [findingkairos](https://archiveofourown.org/users/findingkairos/pseuds/findingkairos). 



> So....*looks to the 10 million other projects I've got going on*...Listen just take it, I swear its good. Oneshot only, though I'm planning more pieces because the SMP give me renewed life in these stressful stressful times. Let me know what you think. Oh. One more thing. 
> 
> THIS PIECE OF FICTION IS BASED OFF THE MINECRAFT CHARACTERS/PERSONAS KNOWN AS 'TECHNOBLADE' AND 'PHILZA MINECRAFT'. NOT 'DAVE' AND 'PHIL'. THIS IS MEANT ENTIRELY AS FICTION AND IS NOT MEANT TO REFLECT ANYTHING IN THE REAL WORLD AND SHOULD THE ACTUAL PHIL AND TECHNO FIND THIS AND WANT IT REMOVED, THE AUTHOR CONSENTS TO DO SO.
> 
> Anyways, thank you!
> 
> \---Edit 2/24/21---
> 
> *Looks at highest number of kudos and second highest number of hits I've ever gotten.*
> 
> Guys....wtf. I....I leave this alone for 2 days....
> 
> Okay...Damn.
> 
> Thank you all so much for your support, every bit of it is so very welcome and encouraging.
> 
> I really want to keep doing pieces for this fandom, so I'll post a second chapter, and link to a poll on my twitter to decide on a piece after that. 
> 
> Once again, THANK YOU FROM THE TOP OF MY LUNGS AND THE BOTTOM OF MY HEART!!!!!!!!!!!!

* * *

* * *

* * *

***Pragma** — Enduring **Love**

 **Pragma** is a unique bonded **love** that matures over many years. It's an everlasting **love** between a couple that chooses to put equal effort into their relationship.*

* * *

It was hard to pinpoint when exactly the sound of howling winds and snows battering against his windows had become the signal that he was home. When the scent of ever present cold and pine had become a comfort rather than an oddity in his life. The hearth crackled as potions bubbled in their stands, and a fresh cup of tea steamed on the table next to his chair.

Days had a habit of blurring together in his self imposed exile, but he had plenty of things to keep him occupied. Plenty of activities to keep him on the straight and narrow, ~~even if some of those activities were preparing for the day when the straight and narrow would fall back off into the path of bloody, bloody destruction.~~

Setting aside the well loved and notated copy of The Art of War, Technoblade sighed, shaking his head to send away the creeping feeling of exhaustion that threatened to have him falling asleep in the plush armchair he’d built for himself. Reaching up, he laced his fingers together as he stretched, wincing at the crackling sounds his back made. Damn, he was stiff. He’d gone back through his favorite chapter of the ancient treatise, and that had predictably meant he’d gone through about half of the whole book in just a few hours. He couldn’t help it! It was full of great quotes and great strategies. Both things he used! Still, he had to finish up a few of his chores…

Ah well. More for him to read later.

It took a minute for him to drag himself up, another to find his cloak and fasten it around his shoulders, the weight of the crushed velvet reinforced with thick leather familiar and soothing as he hooked the sheath of Orphan Obliterator to his belt, sighing as he stepped into the frozen chill. The Hounds and Steve needed to be fed, and he could probably stand to pull a few bottles of honey from the bee farm. He’d make sure Carl got a few extra blankets…

His musings were cut short as a dark shadow flickered at the corner of his vision, and on instinct he stilled, hand falling to the pommel of his sword, eyes narrowing as he peered through the storm.

_What…_

* * *

_**Left. LEFT** _

_**  
  
Technoblind!** _

__

_**E** _

__

_**E** _

__

_**FRIEND** _

__

_**kill it** _

__

_**Blood for the Blood God!** _

* * *

Oh man… there went Chat again. Man, it really didn’t take anything to set them off these days. Even twelve hour mob grinds were getting to be not enough...Wait, what was he doing?

_Closer...a cloak in the wind._

Oh. Right. That. Hm, the wind was loud…

“STATE YOUR BUSINESS!”

Yeah, that worked. The figure flinched back, though whether it was due to surprise or the sudden gust of wind hitting him full on was hard to tell.

“The fuck, mate!”

* * *

_**PHILZA!!!** _

__

_**angel is here!!!** _

__

_**TECHNOFRIEND** _

__

_**tecHNO FREN** _

* * *

Oh thank god it was just Phil.

“Sorry! Couldn’t tell who you were. I take it the compass works.”

“You think?!”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. You didn’t think to wait for a better time to try it out?”

“...”

“Aw, did’ya miss me Phil? You worried about the big bad pig in this little ol’ storm?”

“Hey, last I checked you still did _shit_ with the cold mate...Your cloak is still treating you well?"

I’m wearing it, aren’t I?”

“...Fair enough. Now, can we get inside? I’m fucking freezing!”

The Piglin Hybrid snorted, rolling his eyes as he nodded his head towards the house, finally letting his hand fall away from his sword as he tugged his cloak back to him. He waited for his...friend? It seemed too small of a word to explain his and Philza’s relationship...but he supposed it would do unless he could come up with another. Anyways, he waited for Phil to get ahead of him ~~an old habit, to never have his back exposed, and his nerves were raw with paranoia still, Phil would understand~~ and fell astride and a half step behind as they climbed the steps to the more...presentable part of his home.

It was still a work in progress, he had pretty much no storage and the north wall needed to be patched up...but for now, it was a good enough house. Lighting his flint over the fireplace once more, he got the blaze roaring to a comfortable level as they both settled at what passed for his dinner table, and a mug of tea was passed into slightly shaking fingers.

“Thanks, mate.”

“Anytime….so, want to tell me what really has you sneaking out of L’manberg to come and see me in the middle of the night like we’re teenagers in a shitty romance movie?”

The comparison earned a chuckle out of his blonde companion, and that in itself was enough to get the edges of his own lips twitching up, the gold studding his ears jingling as he shook his head with his own mild mirth.

“Just...the storm was bad at my house, and I was being honest when I was talking about you doing shit with snow. Why you keep picking biomes like this is beyond me!” 

Oh. So it was just...concern. Genuine concern for his well being in a situation he was known to sometimes struggle with

Huh.

…

He hadn’t had anyone worry about him in...a very long time. ~ ~~ut Phil was always the worry-wart of them both, likely it was the parental instincts in him.~~

“It’s quiet. I have enough to deal with, with just...y’know.” He raised a hand, looping his finger in a gesture near his temple. Even though he’d told Phil a while back...he still tried to keep quiet about Them. The Ones Who Watched. The Eyes of the Universe. Or, as he more simply called them, Chat.

"Touche, how’s...How’s that going, speaking of?” Phil’s hands slowly wrapped tighter around the mug, and it was only _because_ Techno had known the survivalist for so many years that he was able to pick out the faintest hint of apprehension coming off his friend. 

“As long as they’re entertained they’ll stay pretty quiet. Taking care of the turtles and mob grinding in the evenings has been enough.” The all too foreboding ' _For now_ ' hovered there between them in the same way that Ghostbur haunted the streets of L’manburg. They wouldn’t acknowledge it, the pain it brought, but would still look it in the eye and pretend it didn’t hurt.

“Been hunting anything in particular?”

“Skeletons mostly, though there have been plenty of creepers. Let me know if you need gunpowder.”

“Nah, I’ll leave that stuff in your hands, mate. Not like I have any uses for it.”

“Are you saying I do?”

Green eyes rolled, and oh, he’d missed this. 

Banter.

Companionship.

~~The ability to trust that the person next to him wouldn’t try and kill him. Since he’d been here, only Philza had been able to give him that.~~

...Okay. He was not going to crack up at the look Phil was giving him. He wasn’t. He, really, really wasn-

Damnit.

The sound of laughter and piglin snorting echoed lightly in his walls as Phil continued to blankly stare him down, his eyes finally softening just enough to let his humor through.

“Mhm. _Mhhhm._ No use for gunpowder, Techno. None. At all. There’s not a single thing you’d _ever_ use gunpowder for. Nothing. Nada…”

He can’t help the continued snickering, and every time he thinks he’s done he doubles back down against the table, hiding his face in his arms for a bit to cover how hard he’s grinning.

Yeah, he deserves that kind of sass. He really does. But you can only keep him away from his beloved TNT for so long. Everyone knows that.

Finally, finally though he catches his breath back, and it’s a literal weight off his shoulder to look up and see Phil grinning back down at him, and- oh, a hand is settled on his back.

~~He can’t remember the last time someone raised a hand to him that wasn’t brandishing an axe or a sword. It’s been...many months at the least. All he knows is war and violence, it always draws him back. Kindness, true kindness, is rare in his world of arena after arena and battle after battle~~.

He’d set his cloak aside as they’d come back in, so the warmth from Phil’s hand leeches through his shirt all too easily. Fingers press gently against his shoulder blade, squeezing just enough to make him hyper aware of every detail of his home, and he can _feel_ his attention span shrinking until the only thing he can focus on is the flicker of firelight against Phil’s hair and the fond twist of his lips that’s rare enough that he’s seen more blue moons than that particular smile and...and-

And then ice settles in his chest, more frozen and deadly than the storm outside, and stabs through his heart, his bones becoming lead. 

It’s too much.

He’s not controlling his expression, and he _knows_ he’s not when Phil's expression shatters too, that happy and warm look dropping and settling into something deeply _concerned-_

~~And that’s not right either. No one should be concerned for him. He’s ‘The Blade’. The Undying. The Immortal. The God of Blood. He should be feared. Be run from. Be shoved in front of others problems and put to use, then cast aside and left to rust~~.

* * *

_**You’re more than that, Techno!** _

_**make them pay!** _

_**BETRAYAL** _

_**makE THEM BLEED** _

_**E** _

_**EEEEEEEE** _

_**Eeee** _

_**eeee** _

**_E BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD!!!!!!_ **

**_!!!Bloood!!!_ **

* * *

Lovely. At least Chat knows well enough to fill his head with nonsense when he gets like this, when his breath goes so shallow he just might pass out. It gives him something to focus on, something other than the dull ache that fills his bones, the weariness that life has given him eternally. 

He jolts back as warm hands slide from his back to settle on his shoulders, and blinking out of his daze means he takes far longer than he should to see that Phil had moved, risen from his seat enough to lean over the table and check for signs of life in the Techno.

“..You alright?”

It’s not a question that requires a response...At least not a verbal one. It’d be so easy to nod, to play it off with a smartass comment or unfunny quip. It’d be natural, and Phil would look at him long and hard, but he’d smile again, even if it was one that was tinged with hesitancy. Still, Phil never pried, never tried to push him into spilling, even if...even if he probably should.

“Mostly...it’s just….” He grumbled, mulling over his words as slowly the numbness bled from where it had claimed his limbs, and his fists curled in on themselves against the spruce table. “...It’s...loud, tonight...That’s all.”

“Ah. They being brats?” And that gets a weak snort out of him, and he shakes his head as he rests his forehead against his arms. 

Phil...understands. Somewhat. Somehow.

It’s not all that uncommon ,apparently, for people to hear the Whispers from Beyond the Void, The Universal Song...Phil’s mentioned it offhandedly, the snippets of chants and echoes he can sometimes hear, and he’s heard rumors and gossip that makes him feel at least a few others here on their current server have the ability as well…

He’s just unlucky that he hears Them as _strongly_ as he does. Full sentences and ranting and incoherent demands and all.

And Phil knows that too. 

Again...it’d be so easy just to move on…

“No...no, uh...this kind of loud is...all me.”

This is uncharted territory. Even with his face still hidden he can _feel_ Phil’s reaction, either surprise or confusion judging by the way his hands still from where they’d still rested against his shirt. Hell, it was probably both.

It was an entirely fair response. It’s not like he actually _talked_ about his feelings all that often, about the crushing anxiety he experienced daily. Being the Champion of Hypixel was stressful enough, but his foray here...with the failure of the Revolution...with...everything.

He put on a good show, he knew he did, but sometimes he wondered how more people didn’t see right through his act.

“It’s been shit lately, Tech….and after L’manberg I’d say you’re more than allowed to have a few bad days. Nothing wrong with it.”

“Doesn’t make me stop feeling like there is something wrong though.”

“You’re also entitled to that.”

...Was he?

“Techno...you _are_ allowed to feel bad. You’re entitled to as many bad days as anyone else.”

Alright, that just wasn’t allowed. Phil wasn’t allowed to read his emotions like a book anymore. Nope. Not happening. He had a reputation to upkeep and Phil being able to do...that. Not cool.

Instead of saying any of that, the hybrid just rolled his eyes, settling his head back down in his arms. “Yeah...Yeah….okay.”

The hand on his shoulder squeezed gently, and _shit that felt nice, please do it again-_

Stop it.

Just. Stop.

“You just blowing me off now mate?” Phil teased, that hand finally slipping away as that blur of green settled back down into his chair.

“Never, Phil. Never.”

And he meant it. He’d promised Phil the world already…

* * *

_If I am meant to be the Blade, then may you be the hand who wields me...O Angel. Raise me up in your pursuits and I will move what is in your path…_

* * *

Outside the wind howls. Snow rises in drifts that will be almost unconquerable come the first light of dawn. But the tiny house nestled deep in the tundra is warm, with fire and food and friends alike. It is not home. Nor shall it ever really be home….but it is Sanctuary.

It is...enough.

* * *

* * *

* * *


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is officially my most liked fic I've ever made AND the first fic I've ever actually finished!
> 
> Thank you to my wonderful friend rookiarts for being my beta and one of my biggest supporters, and to my darling girlfriend for being so supportive even though she has no idea what the SMP is.
> 
> And thank you to everyone who interacted and liked the first chapter, this one is for you guys!
> 
> SAME WARNINGS AND NOTICES I GAVE ON FIRST CHAPTER STILL APPLY

* * *

* * *

* * *

**Agape** (Ancient Greek ἀγάπη, agapē) 

"The love of God for man and of man for God."

A universal, unconditional love that transcends and persists regardless of circumstance.

* * *

  
  


Feathers are messy. 

For normal players it’s not really thought of, the pros and cons of having extra appendages like Phil does. People admire them, think they’re cool, and often are quietly jealous at the same time as they’re giving him compliments, no matter what they say, but they don’t think about living day to day with them.

All those eons ago, Phil hadn’t either.

Scrubbing layer upon layer of mud from between flight feathers, and learning how to move so he could bandage himself up without causing more pain after difficult days in his home servers, those had been hard learned lessons after he’d...returned, for lack of a better word. Of course, that was at home, where he was free to spread his wings as he pleased, to ride the drafts and thermals to his heart's content.

Here, in Dream’s server, it was even less easy to keep them clean.

Hissing, the blond bit down on his tongue to keep from shouting out as his hand fisted his robes over the gash in his shoulder, eyes rolling at the annoyance of it all as he felt blood dripping down his back. Perfect, just what he needed after escaping a mob of zombie pigmen. 

Letting the door to the cabin slam shut behind him, scrabbling to get out of his coat and usual robes was a hell of a chore. Fabric rustled, and in some spots slapped wetly together with how much he’d let it soak, but it was easier to toss them to a corner and clean that up later than to try and fuss about getting blood on the floor. Techno would hardly mind anyways, he did the same.

Finally pulling off the white tunic he kept beneath his  _shihakushō_ , and bunching it up to press against the still bleeding shoulder wound, he gave a breath of relief as he moved to rustle through a few of the chests along the wall. Potions, potions….where had Techno left all the healing potions? He could brew up more, if he had to, it would just take a little longer. After searching through the potions chest, and feeling increasingly woozy while he was at it, he finally gave up the search, and instead rummaged for the netherwart, glistering melon, and glowstone, and managed to get the water bottle set and the ingredients bubbling away before he collapsed into one of the chairs at the dinner table.

* * *

He _ached_.

* * *

He could feel the blood starting to dry, which meant all of it that had gushed down into the mat of feathers that was tucked into his back was drying too. It wouldn’t have been a big deal...if he could reach the damned things. 

Idly, his hand dropped to the iron band that wrapped around his front and pinned his wings tightly to his back, fingers following the lines of enchantment runes of _Curse of Binding_ and _Curse of Vanishing_ as he ducked his head to rest it on the cool wood of the table, eyes slipping shut as he tried for what felt like the millionth time since he had joined the server to move the appendages.

No luck.

He’d expected as much. 

Slowly pulling in a breath, he supposed he should have been thankful. DreamXD wasn’t a total monster, the two golden bands imbibed with _Mending_ that wrapped around where his wings met his shoulders showed at least that. Slowly, slowly the feathers that melded into his skin were being repaired from the extensive damage they’d suffered from...from what happened with Wilbur. They would have healed regardless, but the enchantments had saved him months of waiting for primaries and flight feathers to regrow and were the only things that were keeping his wings from causing constant pain.

It had been a deal with a trickster. Flight wasn’t allowed on the server, but he could heal his wings. He’d agreed, wanting to deal more with the grief than the physical pain…

He regretted it now.

He regretted a lot of things.

* * *

_Not seeing how his son was spiraling sooner. Not getting there faster, not joining them and making sure they were okay. Not leaving L’manburg sooner. Getting Technoblade caught by the Butchers. Binding these blasted wings and bowing to the will of the Admin and his Avatar..._

* * *

The click of the lock to the front door had him freezing. Ranboo was off looking for more woodland mansions, and had promised to send a message over the communicator when he started on his way back. Techno had been in the Nether for the last two weeks, probably grinding for more wither skulls again. He’d been checking in, but…

The footsteps stopped. “Phil?”

Oh Void and Æther why. Why did it have to be Techno? The one person who’d actively questioned after his wings, who'd tried to needle and pry about his lack of flying about. Who Phil had greeted with stiff smiles and half-truths.

“Hey, Techno, mate. How was the Nether?”

“...”

Okay, neat, small talk wasn’t happening. Fantastic. “Glad you’re back, sorry about the mess. Went looking for ya and bonked a few of the zombies instead, and you know how that goes-”

“Phil…”

Oh, he was dead. He was so dead. Had his wings been free, they would have snapped wide open. 

Techno was very expressive with his words. Most people called him monotone, but if you stuck around and listened long enough it was fairly easy to guess what was going on in his head. That low, slow, and _deep_ tone was often reserved for only the worst of Technoblade’s enemies. 

“Yeah, what’s up mate?” Pretending everything was alright was about all he could do, even if it was entirely futile. He hadn’t looked up from the table, hadn’t turned around. He had no idea what his friend was upset about, but if he was sounding like _t_ _hat_ he didn’t want to chance setting him off. 

Techno wouldn’t hurt him, not seriously, but Phil knew that if the piglin hybrid was having an off day...well, his actions might not be entirely his. Still, it was-

“ _What_ is **_that?!_** ” The question practically came out as a snarl, and his shoulders hiked up as he flinched involuntarily. He kept his hands as lax as he could, but his fingers still curled into his arms.

“...What are you talkin’ about, mate? There’s-”

“Is _this_ why you haven’t been flying? I thought you were just being nice and playing by Dream’s stupid rules, but **_this?!_** ”

It's quiet, and then Techno is moving again, footsteps coming closer and so what if his shoulders crawl closer to his ears? So what if this is _exactly_ why he hadn’t told Techno about this in the first place?

His wings may be leaden and numbed to the rest of his body, but he can still feel heat and pressure through them. The air between his shoulder blades shifts but it pauses just inches from filthy, ugly, broken feathers. 

“Dream.”

It’s not a question. 

It’s not a statement of fact. 

It’s a single word that is uttered with enough disgust and rage that Phil knows that the Pit of L’manburg will seem paltry in comparison to the destruction Technoblade can and will bring down on the server. He had started to raise his head, to glimpse the flickering flames and the still bubbling potion stand, but he lets his forehead back down to rest on one of his arms with a sigh.

“Dream.” He confirms wearily. 

Acknowledging it...makes him feel used. Powerless. Weak. It’s a rare feeling. He had lived for so long...seen so many things. This...this hardly ascended admin was nothing, and yet he’d been bested in a moment of weakness. His wings, an honor he’d worked tirelessly to achieve and a pride he’d once maintained to the highest of his ability….they were little better than rags now.

A hand, large and rough, settles on his upper arm. Techno isn’t often one for physical contact, but he understands the significance of it being given now. He hums softly and finally glances up towards his friend.

...Techno is beautiful, in a way so few can understand. 

So what if his Piglin heritage is so strong? It does not take away from the strength and gentleness of his character, the depth of his loyalty, and the determination that thrums through his every vein. He wouldn’t be _The_ Technoblade, whose tusks and ears were encrusted with gold bands and chains, whose red eyes could be as soft as poppies or as harsh as dark as blood. Just because he bore a snout and a mane of shocking pink made him no less than others...even if others often thought so. 

The hand on his shoulder rose up, and fingers scrubbed at a spot of blood on his cheek. Later, Phil would very much blame his exhaustion as he leaned into the touch, humming another note, this one questioning. He knew that look, the deep, intense concentration Techno often gave to his projects...it was the first time he’d ever seen it turned on him, though. The pad of Techno’s thumb swiped under his eye, and Phil couldn’t help but smile at the rumble he received in turn.

“...Do you want them off?” The question is quiet, not hesitant, but quiet. Phil nearly rolls his eyes and quips a ‘what do you think’...but Techno would not ask without cause. The Avatar of Dream may be imprisoned, but his main body of DreamXD would always be a threat…

Technoblade would rather kill himself than allow his friends to be harmed. But the hybrid also knew that he could not make others’ choices for them, that they would follow their own fate. 

So he asks.

* * *

_To anger the rightful owner of the server and break several treaties and rules to get his wings back...Or remain without such an integral part of himself to keep the peace?_

* * *

He raises a brow, and does allow a _bit_ of dry sarcasm to bleed through. “You think you _can_ get them off?” He’s treated to a snort and a roll of the eyes from his friend as the hand holding his cheek, oh...it was still there, finally returned back to Techno’s side.

“I promised you the world, Philza...Believe me, this is nothing.”

…

…

…

Oh.

…

It was a good thing he had lost so much blood, because otherwise he would probably have been blushing by now. So he shrugged, waved a hand idly, trying to move on from that statement which warmed his chest like molten gold as he dropped his head back down.

“...If you think you can...go for it mate.”

The fire still crackled and snapped around him, and the potions were likely almost done...but listening to Techno move around his home was always soothing. There was the clinking of metals and tools and the sound of rustling fabric, and when he’d looked up again Technoblade had set his finished potions on the table, as well as his emergency medical kit. Potions only went so far...he’d still have to sew up the shoulder to make sure the magic did its work to the fullest...presumably after this stupid band was off…

Huh, he must have lost more blood than he thought, as his vision was slightly blurry as he felt Techno step behind him again, could feel that analytical gaze practically drilling into the offending iron embellishment.

“Phil...might take more than a little elbow grease.”

He hummed, turning his head to let green eyes peer over his good shoulder, brow raised. Techno looked...nervous. Determined certainly, wanting to help Phil as much as he was able...but nervous all the same. 

Granted, they were talking about Phil’s wings. A gift so rare from the Universe that those who had them were often considered on the level of the Ascended themselves. Sure, he’d gotten a squeeze of the shoulder, or a pat on the arm from Techno before...but he hadn’t touched his wings...ever, that he could remember.

“I did say go for it, didn’t I? I trust you.” Perhaps he just needed to start saying it more.

Techno blinked at him for a moment as some unnamable expression passed over his face, rare, but not all of the piglin hybrid was an open book, even after all these years. Eventually though, he got a slow nod. It was enough to get Phil to relax a bit more, even managing a smile as he turned back around again. Probably it’d take a pickaxe or someth-

“Aah!”

Alright then.

Typical Technoblade. You were never supposed to expect the usual with him.

So...being held wasn’t terrible. He would have preferred to keep his feet on the floor, but having one burly arm brace holding him against Techno’s chest wasn’t the worst thing in the world. “Uuuh….”

“Sorry…”

“...’S fine, mate. A little more warning would have been nice though. What am I, a sack of potatoes?”

Techno’s snort was a good sign, and Phil just did his best to stay limp as he was shifted slightly, only stiffening up as he felt fingers wrap around and slip under the iron band, dark feathers brushing against well worked hands.

“Nah, even those are heavier than you...Ready?”

“Wha-...No pick? Sword?”

“Too unwieldy. This is easier...mostly.”

“This?”

Techno shrugged, and he was about to try and twist in his friend's hold when the fingers holding him tightened, his breath catching in his chest as his feathers ruffled against pink skin…

Metal creaked.

A low rumble thrummed from Techno’s chest and he shifted Phil even closer.

Another creak...and the tinkling, chiming sounds of enchantments failing..

_**’Thunk!’** _

Phil sucked in a breath, shuddering as the weight of the restraint clattered to the floor, his wings spilling out of Techno’s arms. He barely noticed, too stunned by the original display of force, as fingers gently curled around the golden bands at the base of his wings and shattered them too.

Blinking absently down at the spruce flooring, things were a bit of a blur for what was probably a few minutes as the whole of what had just happened set in.

_ Could he...Could he really…? _

He startled slightly as his feet were set to the floor, head snapping up as one hand stayed gripped tightly to the fabric of Techno’s shirt. Dark feathers stayed slumped to the ground, still limp, and Techno must have thought something was wrong, as that large hand didn’t move from where it was steadying his lower back.

Evergreen eyes stared up at red, surprise and disbelief probably written all over his expression as Technoblade just...chuckled. Shrugged and grinned. Phil scoffed, his primaries ruffling in exasperation-

He froze.

_His primaries ruffled_.

…

…

…

... ** _Oh._**

  
  


All his attention turned inward on himself, wide eyes dropping again as he flexed muscles long neglected-

His wings snapped open as he sucked in a breath, nearly eclipsing the whole of the cabin in darkness as they reached from wall to wall. His breath caught again as he stumbled in shock, but as always, Techno was right there, that hand still keeping him upright. 

“You-...How-?” He fumbled for his words, delight and confusion and emotions he couldn’t even understand bubbling through him at a speed that was almost giving him whiplash.

“What, you think a little iron is enough to stop me? I’m wounded, Phil.” That gravelly baritone rumbled in amusement, and briefly Phil flashed back to the chaos of the Execution, the iron bars of the cage that had been shredded somehow as Techno had fled…

One dark wing smacked into Techno’s side, and the snort he earned had him smiling too as Techno batted the feathers away playfully, then paused, that keen eye apparently zeroing in on something else before the piglin shook his head. 

“Alright. Sit down. You’re still bleeding all over my damn house, so let's get you stitched up.”

Ah. Right. The shoulder wound. Funny how getting his wings back had him almost forgetting about it. He didn’t fight Techno as he was steered towards a chair by the hearth, and was content even as a needle pierced his skin and stitched him back together. One of the finally complete potions was set between his palms, and he sipped at it quietly as Techno got him mostly patched up.

Fingers of one hand were carding through the ends of his hair as he felt the other hand brush against his feathers. Nearly lulled to sleep by the combination of feeling better and the exhaustion of his earlier excursion, he almost missed the soft question that’s offered to the open air.

“...If you want, Phil...I could help you get these back in working order?”

It takes a second for it to register. Another to fully process.

Technoblade, for all his smarts, can also be horribly socially oblivious and dense. With wings so rare, it wouldn’t be out of place for him to _not_ know the significance of what he just asked…

Honestly though, Techno had just given him his wings _back_ , and had always protected him and seen him through the good and the bad. If anyone deserved what most saw as a privilege...Yeah, yeah.

“Sure, mate. Grab a rag, this...this is gonna take awhile.”

Ruffling his feathers and spreading his wings flat, Phil smiled to himself. A glance out the window found stars shimmering high above, stars he could touch again.

* * *

_If I am meant to be the Hand, may your presence guide me to the path of righteousness...O Warrior, stay with me through darkest days, and all we build shall last._

* * *

In the morning, Phil knows he will fly. He will chase after the painted skies of dawn and follow the azure hues until they dip into the inkiest of blacks. In the morning things will be as they always are, and though neither will forget a night like this where bonds are forged ever deeper, it will not be spoken of. Phil will inscribe what they have no words for into the curl of his wings around broad shoulders that aren’t his, and Techno in the tips of his fingers as they reverently care for feathers in the aftermath of days past.

They are not weak alone. But they are stronger together.

It is _everything_.

* * *

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, before anyone asks, no I will not be doing more chapters for this set. Originally I only ever planned on writing a chapter for Techno, but then all the support I got inspired me to write a chapter from Phil's point of view.
> 
> I am going to be doing more for the DSMP fandom though, and if you all check out my twitter I'll be holding a poll to determine what my next piece will be. Interaction, comments, and kudos are always appreciated and I'm always down to chat.
> 
> Anyways, I hope you enjoyed and I'll see you again with any luck!


	3. NOT A CHAPTER (AND YES I'M SORRY)

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Alright!

Hi guys! I really do hate to be this kind of person who puts in spare 'not really chapters' BUT, with all the love this fic has been getting, I did promise I'd put out a poll so you guys could help me decide what comes next!

Link HERE: <https://twitter.com/_ShadowR0nin_/status/1367358323981357060>

The choices I've put together are as follows, and a brief description of each:

Cultural Differences: With so many different types of Players it's inevible that some things get lost in translation. From Server Modes to Species, it's the little things that make us all unique. _(World Building Fic, Mostly Focused on DSMP players, but will_ _encompass the general Minecraft YT and Streaming community)_

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The Sixth Battle (Alternatively Named, Hom.Il.16 l. 804–822) : They killed him...like he was nothing. Like he wasn't important. Like he was nothing. The wars before would be nothing. He would rend this place to nothingness. Not even ashes would survive. _(Philza and Technoblade Fic. I won't spoil this one too much, BUT, very angsty fic, and yes, one of them will be gone.)_

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Unnamed Self-Insert Fic: Yes, yes I have started down the OC path. Not surprising, I do it with every fandom, but I know that it can be something people don't care for or like. I thought I'd provide the option at least! Magic and mischief and mystery abound, and a lot of worldbuilding will be incorporated from 'Cultural Differences' too. Plot...who's that again? Ah, right. You thought Dream's server rose from nothing. Appeared like an oasis of light and life in the desert of the eternal Void...but it didn't. Even Gods need help when shifting the fabrics of space and reality. She sits quietly, forgotten, but alive and that is all she asks. Until the Champion stumbles upon her, and everything turns like the clear skies of day to a raging storm.

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Patience is a Virtue: The Old Ones...they are good at waiting. The mortal men and women oft shake in terror at the thought of the Lord of the Dead and the Harbinger roaming the world, visions of war and conquest filling their minds. They think that the death they want is sudden and violent...It's cute, really. (Based of a tumblr post I found on pinterest about how death gods would be more powerful if kingdoms prospered, and all I got was Big and Scary Old God Phil and Techno traveling around and being domestic as hell.)

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Once again, thank you all for all the support and love, you've no idea how much you all make my day.

THANK YOU!!!!


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